


Eyes I Dare Not Meet in Dreams

by JackOfNone



Category: Eversion, Yume Nikki (Dream Diary)
Genre: Creepy, Crossover, F/M, Gift Fic, Horror, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-17
Updated: 2009-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfNone/pseuds/JackOfNone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The eyes are not here<br/>There are no eyes here<br/>In this valley of dying stars<br/>In this hollow valley<br/>This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms...<br/>Between the essence<br/>And the descent<br/>Falls the Shadow<br/>For Thine is the Kingdom<br/>-- T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes I Dare Not Meet in Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For Purin.

He did not fear going downward. Downward was the direction that heroes went. Down, into caves and dark places where monsters lurked. Down, into the deepest layers of the world.

You could always return -- retrace your steps, find the path, step back upwards into the bright light and see the broad smiles, the flowers bursting with life, the clouds white and soft against the blue sky. But backwards wasn't the way heroes traveled -- they went forward, ever onward, deeper, darker.

Besides, once you'd stepped downward once, you could always see the places where the world was soft and the colors were dimmed, tempting you to step downwards again. You could return to the beginning, but you couldn't really go back.

No, there was only one thing to do -- keep peeling back the layers of the world, like an onion with a rotted core, until you reached the bottom. He was happy to do it -- after all, she would be there.

Down, until all the plants withered on their stems and the clouds hardened into rocks hanging in midair.

Down past that, where great hands grasped at his feet and the wind wept black bile.

It would be so easy to fall, he thought once or twice. All he had to do was let his foot slip from the rotting bricks and tumble into the endless bloody depths beneath him -- but what would be the point of that? If he didn't jump, and keep running, then he would never meet the Princess who waited at the center of the world...and anyway, maybe the great bloody sea wouldn't destroy him. Maybe it would do something much worse than death. One could never be sure here.

Another soft place. Another layer to peel back. He closes his eyes (because he has learned it is easier that way) and hops downward.

When the change is made and his eyes blink open again, he is certain that he has found his destination. No trace is left of the world he left -- the bushes have now withered to nothing, and all the color has disappeared. There is only white ground, twisting in on itself like a snake, and the blood sea that is now colorless and still.

There is nothing here -- not even the monsters with rolling eyes, or the searing black bile. Just an endless expanse of white ocean, white ground, and a castle at the end of the path.

Inside, he is terrible disappointed to see that the Princess is not here. Instead there's someone who looks like she belongs back at the beginning -- golden yellow hair, bright clothes, standing in the light of a pink lamp.

Apparently the rules have changed. He squints at her -- yes, she's clearly a soft point, but not upwards as her color and tone would suggest. Despite what she looks likes, she goes downwards.

She doesn't even seem to notice him when he walks up to her. The room shudders beneath his feet, and her form peels away like old paint. He has the vaguest impression of a face, white and black and either laughing or screaming, as he falls into another, deeper layer.

It's bright white here...white and smooth and shiny, like metal. There's a window on the wall, but there's only blackness outside of it.

There's someone here, too -- someone who looks like the person from the layer above. She has color, like him.

He stands there, looking at her, for a long time before speaking.

"Are you a hero, too?" he says. She looks up, as though speech confuses her.

"No," she says. "I'm waiting for someone." Ah -- this, this he understands. Maybe she is looking for the Princess.

"Is this the end of the world?" he asks.

"Something like that," she says, and stands up. She moves her hand, and suddenly her fingers are wrapped around the handle of a knife, as if they always have been. "You can come if you like," she says, though she does not explain where or why.

There is only one door, so he follows her. In the absence of downward, forward will do.

The door leads to a large room, white like the previous one. There's someone else here -- a long, tall figure, black and white. The girl's face twists into a smile when she sees him; the man's does not change as he shuffles backwards. He might be afraid...it's hard to tell. He blinks, and warbles.

"See?" she says, still smiling, addressing the man. Her smile is lopsided and strange. "I came back."

She leaps forward as though to embrace him, but the knife in her outstretched hand slides into his chest. There's blood and a high keening scream, and the girl raises her knife again. The man tumbles backwards, striking the keyboard behind him, playing a discordant melody with his own death.

When she brings the knife down again, she flays open his throat, and he's smiling. The edge of her blade peels back layers of flesh, muscle, bone -- again and again.

The man's body twitches, plays another note in the keyboard, and the hero blinks in awe. This broken mess of white flesh, black cloth, red blood...yes, this is the center of the universe. This is the bottom of the world.

This is where she could remake everything at her whim and cut through every layer, no matter how thick.

"Princess," he whispers, reverently. She turns towards him, two colored figures in a room of white and black, and opens her eyes.


End file.
